


Picture Perfect

by sweeterthankarma



Category: The Bold Type
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Ice Skating, Winter fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-01 04:46:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12148908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweeterthankarma/pseuds/sweeterthankarma
Summary: Suttons-buttons requested, "Sutton discovers that Alex has somehow never been to Rockefeller Center for ice skating and sets out to rectify this immediately, dragging a less-than-willing Alex with them."





	Picture Perfect

“I can't believe this. I really can't. This is an outrage. This might as well just be illegal!”

Sutton is pacing back and forth in front of Alex in the break room, who just looks at her with an amused look on his face. It’s been awhile since he’s seen her this worked up, and he can’t believe it’s over this, of all things. 

    “Sutton, please, it’s not that big of a deal. It's just  _ ice skating. _ ”

   They’ve been talking about this for far too long, longer than Alex thought anyone should need to talk about this. Sutton’s jaw had dropped when she’d learned that Alex had never been ice skating at Rockefeller Center, despite having lived in New York his whole life. She had been incredulous- and a bit judgmental, quite frankly- but to be fair, her entire childhood pretty much consisted of daily trips to the local rink in the wintertime. Her aunt had taught her to skate when she was seven years old, and her family had always made it a point to venture through the crowds around Christmastime just to spend some time skating around the giant tree. It was by far the highlight of her childhood, and knowing Alex had never even  _ been  _ to Rockefeller Center made something in her chest pang with sadness. 

So of course, as soon as Alex had told Sutton this heartbreaking fact, Oliver had called her name and she’d had to dash off. She kept her eyes on Alex as she backed away, tapping her watch and mouthing, “fifteen minutes” with a seriousness he found a little too endearing. 

Now in the break room, Kat stirs a coffee from her vantage point at the doorway, watching the dialogue between her best friend and her coworker unfold.

    “It's not ‘just ice skating!’” Sutton says, feeling very passionately about this, each word punctuated with more enthusiasm than Alex thinks is necessary. Kat suddenly wonders if she should take out her phone and record this, save it for potential blackmail or maybe, just  _ maybe  _ Sutton and Alex’s wedding. Because come on, they’re fighting like a married couple already. 

    “We are in New York City,” Sutton continues, “we get a shit ton of snow every year, and you're telling me you've never been ice skating, let alone ice skating at  _ Rockefeller Center? _ I mean, do you even live here?”

    “I do,” Alex says matter-of-factly, folding his hands under his chin. Still so damn unimpressed, but enjoying the spectacle she’s putting on. “Have, all 25 years of my life.”

    “That has to be a lie. You have to be making this up. That’s just an abomination if it is. So sad.  _ So sad. _ ”

    “I really think you're overhyping this,” he says, and when Kat laughs from the doorway, Sutton turns, not having realized she was there.

    “Come on, Kat, tell him,” she says, going over to grab her hands. “Isn’t ice skating  _ the best? _ ”

Kat doesn’t have the best balance and she doesn’t love the cold- two things Sutton both knows- but she’s looking at her in that way, that familiar pleading gaze that says,  _ "come on, please be on my side" _ and so she has to concur. 

    “It’s fun,” she says with a shrug.

    “Wow, so convincing,” Sutton deadpans, giving her a half-glare before giving up and walking back over to the counter.

She throws a small smile in Alex’s direction, offering him some condolences. She’s been in his shoes before- a few months ago, Sutton had encouraged her to get acrylic nails, shocked she’d never tried them before, and she  _ hated  _ them. Her nail beds are still recovering.

    “Come on babe, you know I like it. I do go every year with you, don’t I?” Kat says.

    “Yeah, and I’m glad you do. It’s always so much fun! But you-” she points at Alex- “ _ need _ to come with me this time. You need to be introduced to the magic that is skating around the Christmas lights, drinking hot chocolate, and that golden statue that after all these years I still don’t know the name of. It’ll change your life!”

    “I really do think you’re over-” Kat starts but then realizes Sutton’s no longer listening. She’s standing close to Alex- not too close, but close enough that Kat picks up on it. Then again, it’s hard not to when Sutton grasps his hands, pleading, and Alex just grins back at her, hopeless.

    “What're you doing tonight?” Kat hears Sutton ask.

He shrugs. “Working.”

    “After you’re done working?”

    “I have no plans.”

    “You do now.” 

  
  


Sutton doesn’t really know why, but she’s giddy all day. She wants to blame it on the ice skating- it’s always been one of her favorite hobbies and it’s been a year since she’s gone, so yeah, of course she’s excited. But it feels like something more, something bigger, but she won’t be the one to address that.

Kat will though.

    “So,” she says, when Sutton gets off the phone with an associate from Cartier. “You have a date with Alex?”

    “It’s not a date,” Sutton replies, but the words come out too fast, her voice a little higher pitched than normal. They both recognize it. 

    “It’s not a date,” she says again, voice steadier this time. “I’m just taking him ice skating. You know how strongly I feel about this, it’s a shame he’s never been before.”

    “Alright, well, you are the queen of ice skating after all.”

Sutton flips her hair in response. “Thank you, I know.” 

Only when she turns back to the concept wall, covered in photos of the models for the next upcoming fashion show, does Kat say, “and every queen needs a king.”

Sutton rolls her eyes. “Or another queen- by the way, how’s Adena? Weren’t you with her last night?”

    “Bye Sutton!” Kat calls from down the hallway. “Enjoy your date!”

    “Not a date!” 

Still, Sutton is just growing giddier as the day goes on, and she’s really trying not to think about why. 

They meet at Blue Bottle coffee shop at quarter of six, and Alex is already inside when Sutton arrives. She thought she would be early, kind of  _ wanted  _ to be early so that she could prepare herself- but then again, what exactly is she preparing for? 

He’s standing by a table, sipping on a latte with another cup on the table, and Sutton is internally spewing curses when he hands her the drink because he’s brought her coffees thousands of times before at work, so why does this feel different? Why is her stomach doing that flip thing it does before she gives a presentation, or before she watches the finale episode of a TV show, or...the way it did when he looked at her earlier.

They walk down the block to Rockefeller Center, Sutton leading the way to the rink. She judges his choice of hat- red and soft, she pets it to assure, but clearly worn and ready to be replaced. He tells her that his grandmother made it for him, about five years ago before she passed away, and Sutton suddenly feels like an asshole.

    “I’m sorry,” she says.

    “Don’t be,” he responds, gloved hand soft on her forearm. “Your job is to critique fashion, and believe me, I know this hat has seen better days.” He smiles down at her, warm and casual, and she takes his hand without thinking and guides him onto the ice. 

She wobbles a bit when her skates touch the ice, even after all these years it’s a shock when you’ve spent the past year on level ground, wearing regular shoes. Alex is the one to steady her, guiding her to the edge of the rink so that they’re out of the way of other skaters and she can catch her balance.

She brushes a strand of hair out of her face, gathering herself, and then laughs. “You know, this isn’t how I thought this would go. I thought you’d be the one flat on your face by now.”

    “Well, you haven’t fallen yet, so don’t count me out either. We’ve moved maybe two feet, and you’ve definitely done this more frequently than me.”

Sutton starts gliding forward, slow, hand loose on the railing. “So are you saying we should make a bet?” She teases.

    “I didn’t say that,” she hears him say behind her. His hand is on the railing in her peripheral vision.

    “Loser buys dinner?” He asks, and she snorts. 

    “So cliche,” Sutton says, but manages to halt herself, spin around, and shake his hand without crashing into him. “Deal.”

  
  


She’s the one who ends up falling, and it’s only fitting, honestly. She had nagged him over and over again about how he needed to come here, needed to experience it because it had shaped her life so she was sure it would make an impact on his too, and he’s just here effortlessly skating while she’s tripping  _ constantly _ . She blames it on him, his presence, his hands on her waist whenever she almost faceplants, but she won’t say that.

    “I can’t believe this is your first time skating,” she mutters with a laugh as he helps her to her feet. “Are you just good at everything?”

    “I never said this was my first time skating,” Alex says, and Sutton  _ really  _ almost trips this time, even though she’s standing still.

    “What the hell?” She smacks his arm- not too hard, but there’s a little bit of force behind it- and he just smirks.

    “I just said I’d never come here before. You know, I played hockey in high school. Varsity.”

    “Shut up,” she says, pulling back to lean against the railing. She tugs her gloves off, shoving them in her pockets and just looks at him.

    “You’re buying dinner now,” she remarks with a raise of her eyebrows. “This was so much more exciting  _ before  _ you out-skated me.”

    “Hey, I never said I was a professional ice skater, and you never said you weren’t,” he replies, coming to her side with a chuckle. “I didn’t think I was going to have to be helping you up all night.”

Sutton pouts for a second, then sticks her tongue out at him. 

Alex just keeps laughing. He leans back against the railing, tipping his head up to look at the skyline. It’s New York City so the stars are almost never visible, but they’re blocked out even more in the haze of the Christmas lights. 

    “Wish we could see them,” he comments.

    “Hmm?” 

    “The stars.”

    “Yeah,” she responds. Then, a beat later, “you know, it makes sense that we don’t have them.”

A couple about their age skate in front of them, pausing a little off to the right to ask a photographer to take their photo. They kiss unabashedly and the stranger quirks their eyebrows at them, a tad uncomfortable but takes the photo. The couple is beautiful, happy, and so obviously in love. She wants that, and she’s only just coming to terms with how much she longs for it. Sutton doesn’t realize she’s staring- an ache in her chest she almost doesn’t recognize at first until Alex’s presence next to her is  _ too _ obvious. 

    “Why’s that?” Alex asks, watching her face curiously as her gaze focuses on the couple.

    “Because New York City already has everything else you could ever need,” she says, not meeting his eyes. “If there were stars all the time it’d just be too much.”

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. He just looks at her, watches her observe the city before her and the life in it- people of all ages skating, holding hands, falling and getting up, sipping hot drinks and taking pictures and being happy. Maybe that’s the thing she longs for the most- happiness. She has nothing to complain about, but there’s still something missing in her, something she needs but can’t identify.

    “I don’t think that’s true,” Alex says, voice quiet by her ear. He  _ definitely  _ moved in closer, she thinks, and she can’t deny the goosebumps that rise on her skin. 

    “Why’s that?” She turns to face him, one hand still on the railing. He’s taller with the skates on but so is she, and their eyes meet at the same usual level. There’s a familiarity in it. 

    “Well...you’re here,” he says. “That’s enough magic right there, but they still let this giant Christmas tree in here too, and that’s pretty magical too.”

Sutton just looks at him. She wants to laugh, to nudge his arm and tell him to shut up but he’s sincere and keeps his eyes on her. She feels like she’s dreaming, like she’s going to wake up and have an awkward morning when she has to see him at work, but she knows it’s real-  _ he’s  _ real- because her heart is leaping in her chest. Sutton Brady, usually so cool and collected, is strung up on Alex Crawford, and she knows it. 

She leans in towards his lips, slow and hesitant but seeing him moving forward as well, ensuring her,  _ yes, this is a mutual thing _ , and all her mind can think is  _ holy shit it’s a mutual thing?!?? _

They’re close, practically breathing the same air and she can smell his cologne, anticipate his mouth before it’s on her. She’s fighting back a smile already and she’s inches from his lips and just a few more seconds and then-

    “Hello, would you like me to take your picture?” 

There’s a third party suddenly in their face, an oblivious twenty something male- the same one who took the photos of the couple Sutton had been watching- with a camera dangling precariously from his fingertips. For a second Sutton prays he’ll drop it, is practically begging the gods of fate to, by some miracle, smash it with a stray snowball. But then she looks at Alex, uncomfortable and anxious and pulling away, and she grabs his hand.

    “Of course!” Sutton says to the photographer, and she gives him her phone, even though she knows his ultimate goal was to make her pay a ridiculous amount of money for the high resolution photos at a kiosk down the street. The man tries to protest, says he isn’t allowed to do this but Sutton doesn’t take no for an answer, thrusts her phone in his palms and saddles up beside Alex instead.

She smiles up at him, eyes bright and she watches his complexion relax a little. The photographer takes a couple photos, Alex’s arm wrapped around her waist as she leans into him. 

    “One more!” Sutton says when the photographer tries to give her phone back. He sighs and Sutton knows she isn’t the first person he’s had to take demands from. But she doesn’t care because she’s reaching up to Alex’s neck now, guiding him in, just barely checking to make sure the photographer’s doing as she asked before she meets his lips.

Kissing him is different than she expected.  _ Better _ , because it’s real. His lips are soft and warm and when he slides them against hers she feels like there’s new oxygen in her lungs. His hands slip up her sides, firm at her hips and she thinks she could do this forever,  _ wants  _ to do this forever. She whines a quiet moan when he breaks away and she just stands in shock for a second. He’s the one with half the sense to take her phone back and thank the photographer, who just looks so tired of his job at this point.

When Alex turns back to her, Sutton just laughs, throwing her arms around his neck again. This time she hugs him, feeling her heart shake in her chest and hoping he can feel it too. She’s hugged him many times before, but this is different.  _ They’re  _ different now.

  
  


They don’t ask specifics. They don’t clarify what they are, at least not right away. They go to dinner and sit at a table in the corner and he pays, but when they walk down the street later and stop at a gelato shop- because who cares if it’s thirty degrees outside when there’s  _ gelato  _ in the vicinity- she insists on paying, because it was her idea. They share a bowl of chocolate and sit together on one of the modern couches that can always be found in shops like that, and when he gets ice cream on the corner of his mouth she kisses it away. It feels like the most natural thing she’s done, aside from working in fashion, in a long, long time.

  
  


    “So how was it?” Kat asks the next day when Sutton barges into the office, carrying an armful of designer coats.

Sutton sighs once she drops the coats, and then turns to face Kat. “Yeah, you were right.”

    “What?”

    “It was kind of a date,” she grins, tossing her phone to her. She tries- and fails- to stifle a grin when she watches Kat turn on the home screen and then arch her eyebrows when she sees the picture- her and Alex under the statue, in front of the big Christmas tree kissing. 

Kat just smirks. “I told you it was.”

**Author's Note:**

> It may only be September, but it's never too early for a winter fic, right??  
> Thanks for reading, feel free to message me here or on Tumblr under the same username if you have any prompts or just want to talk about this amazing show! There's not enough fics for it so I'm definitely planning on writing more :)


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